CHAPTER 141: HIS PANIC, HER COMPOSURE
Tang Kexin hesitated for only a heartbeat—but it was enough. In that brief pause, she saw something shift in Ye Lanjue's eyes. The coldness remained, but beneath it surged a darker, more turbulent emotion she could not immediately name.
Before she could speak, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed from not far away—disordered, numerous, approaching quickly.
Tang Kexin's lips curved.
So fast.
The next act of the farce was arriving right on schedule.
Ye Lanjue's gaze flickered. The momentary storm in his eyes receded, replaced by sharp calculation. Something was wrong—terribly wrong. If she had truly drunk Feng Qingyan's tea, she would not be standing here, clear‑eyed and steady. Even he, with all his skill, could not have neutralised such a drug so swiftly.
And the mastermind behind this plot was meticulous. Every step had been timed to perfection. There was no room for accidents.
Which meant…
"You didn't drink Feng Qingyan's tea," he said quietly, narrowing his eyes.
Tang Kexin inclined her head. "With her attitude, if I refused, she would never have let me go. So of course I had to 'drink' it. But I didn't swallow a drop."
She reached into her sleeve and produced the small round object. With a firm squeeze, water dripped from it.
"This little thing is quite useful. Absorbs water beautifully."
Ye Lanjue exhaled sharply—half relief, half exasperation.
"Tang Kexin, must you always explain things in fragments?"
He glared at her, but the anger in his eyes was only a thin veil over the profound relief beneath. She was unharmed. That alone steadied the storm in his chest.
Tang Kexin blinked at him, puzzled. He was behaving oddly today—too informed, too tense. Even as a prince, he should not have known the details of what had happened behind the rockery. No one had witnessed it except Feng Qingyan and her two attendants.
Unless he had other means of knowing.
She considered asking—but thought better of it. Whatever his methods, they were his secrets. And some things were safer left unspoken.
"There are quite a few people coming," she murmured, turning her head toward the approaching footsteps. "Let's go and have a look."
Ye Lanjue stared at her.
Did she truly not grasp the danger?
She had nearly been ruined, and yet she spoke as though she were going to watch a play.
"You said you met the Crown Prince behind the rockery," he said slowly. "Where is he now?"
If the Crown Prince had been part of the scheme—and Ye Lanjue had no doubt he was—then he had intended to use the drug to destroy her reputation. The thought alone sent a murderous chill through him.
But if that was the case… why was she standing here, calm and unscathed?
And why did she look… amused?
Tang Kexin coughed lightly. "Well… why don't we go and see?"
"What did you do?" Ye Lanjue demanded, suspicion sharpening his tone.
"Let's go," she said quickly, avoiding his gaze. "We'll see soon enough."
She turned and walked toward the rockery. Ye Lanjue followed, his expression darkening with every step.
By the time they reached a vantage point, Feng Qingyan had already arrived with a large entourage. Tang Kexin stopped at a discreet corner, eyes bright with anticipation.
"Let's watch," she whispered.
Ye Lanjue stared at her in disbelief.
She was genuinely here to enjoy the spectacle.
Any other woman would have been trembling, hysterical, half‑dead with fear. But Tang Kexin—this infuriating, impossible woman—was watching her own attempted ruin as though it were a festival performance.
He stood behind her, silent, tense. He had rushed here the moment he received the news. If she had not been clever enough, even he might not have reached her in time.
He would have to assign someone to watch her more closely in the future. She was far too good at courting danger.
---
At the rockery, the procession approached.
The Emperor walked at the front, accompanied by a young man in his twenties—clearly the Northern Prince—and an older envoy. Behind them came the Empress, Imperial Concubine Ming, and several other consorts.
And, of course, Feng Qingyan.
If Tang Kexin had truly been drugged and dragged behind the rockery, the Crown Prince would have been caught in the act. He would have been forced to "take responsibility" and marry her. His reputation would have suffered, but not fatally. Hers, however, would have been destroyed—especially in front of the Northern Prince.
Ye Lanjue's eyes darkened with murderous intent.
The Emperor and Northern Prince walked past the rockery without noticing anything. The Empress followed, her expression cool. Feng Qingyan, however, was visibly anxious.
"There seems to be a sound behind the rockery," she said loudly.
She had heard nothing. She was simply following the script. By now, the Crown Prince should have been… occupied. And Tang Kexin should have been ruined.
"What sound?" Imperial Concubine Ming frowned. "I heard nothing."
"I thought I heard a groan," Feng Qingyan insisted. "Perhaps someone is injured."
The Empress's gaze swept over her—cold, unimpressed. Ever since the previous incident, her attitude toward Feng Qingyan had cooled considerably.
"Perhaps Qingyan misheard," she said lightly.
Feng Qingyan's expression stiffened. She lowered her head, feigning humility.
"Assassin?" Imperial Concubine Ming gasped, immediately stepping aside. "If there is an assassin, someone must check!"
The Emperor halted. His eyes narrowed. He turned to the guard beside him.
"Go and see."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
The guard strode toward the rockery.
And Tang Kexin smiled.
The curtain was rising.
CHAPTER 142: THE TEETH MARK SHE MEANT TO SHOW
All eyes turned toward the rear of the rockery. A ripple of unease passed through the gathered ladies; fear and nervousness were etched plainly across their faces. The guards, however, remained impassive. They had heard nothing earlier and assumed Miss Feng had simply misheard.
Then—
"Ah!"
A guard who had gone behind the rockery cried out in unmistakable shock.
The crowd stiffened. Even the Emperor's expression sharpened.
"Report," he commanded, his voice low and edged with steel.
"Your Majesty," the guard called back, "there is someone behind the rockery. He appears injured—his face is bruised beyond recognition."
Behind the rockery, the Crown Prince—drugged, dazed, and thoroughly beaten—lay slumped against the stones. He was too far gone to understand what was happening, let alone respond.
The vines Tang Kexin had tied him with had already begun to loosen.
Feng Qingyan's eyes flickered.
One person? Only one? And injured?
This was not how the scene was supposed to unfold.
"Bring him out," the Emperor ordered, his expression darkening.
The imperial concubines paled visibly. The mere suggestion of an assassin had them trembling.
The Northern Prince halted as well. His expression remained unreadable—cold, remote, as though carved from winter frost. Even Ye Lanjue's chill paled beside his.
The guard dragged the Crown Prince out by the collar like a limp, oversized chick. Gasps erupted at the sight of him.
"Good heavens!" Imperial Concubine Ming shrieked. "Who is this? How could anyone be beaten to such a state?"
No one recognised him.
No one except Feng Qingyan—and she dared not show it.
From the shadows, Ye Lanjue's gaze sharpened.
He looked at Tang Kexin.
She looked back, expression mild.
He understood at once.
"You did this?" he murmured, a dangerous glint in his eyes.
Tang Kexin coughed delicately. "It does look a little heavy-handed, but—"
"Too light," Ye Lanjue said coldly, his gaze fixed on the Crown Prince with open killing intent.
The man had dared to lay a hand on his woman. This beating was far from sufficient.
Tang Kexin blinked.
Ah. So the Third Prince and the Crown Prince are not allies after all.
That explained his satisfaction.
Feng Qingyan, meanwhile, was spiralling.
"How could someone be beaten like this? Who would dare do such a thing inside the palace?" she demanded, feigning outrage.
But her mind raced.
Where was Tang Kexin?
Why was the Crown Prince alone?
Why was he beaten?
Why was Tang Kexin not ruined?
Nothing made sense.
"You must find the culprit!" she snapped at the guards, her voice tight with panic. "Search properly!"
Tang Kexin, standing not far away, let out a soft, amused breath.
She knew exactly what Feng Qingyan wanted—to find her.
Very well.
She stepped forward.
"Oh my, where did this pig's head come from?" she exclaimed loudly, staring at the Crown Prince with exaggerated astonishment. "Heavens, what a sight!"
Her gaze flicked briefly toward Feng Qingyan—sharp, mocking.
Feng Qingyan stiffened.
She turned—and froze.
Tang Kexin walked toward the group, perfectly composed, perfectly unharmed.
Impossible.
Tang Kexin had drunk the tea. She should have been drugged, helpless, ruined.
And yet here she was—calm, bright-eyed, and walking beside the Third Prince.
Feng Qingyan's mind reeled.
Had His Highness detoxified her?
No—impossible. The poison was too strong, too fast. Even if he had cured her, she would not look this lively.
Nothing added up.
The Empress exhaled quietly in relief at the sight of Tang Kexin, though she did not call out to her as she once might have.
The Northern Prince's gaze shifted toward Tang Kexin. When their eyes met, something flickered in his pupils—a crack in the ice, a faint glimmer of recognition.
These eyes… they resemble…
Even the imperial bodyguard beside him stiffened.
Tang Kexin felt the weight of the Northern Prince's stare. She turned her head—and their gazes locked.
He did not look away.
His gaze was cold, strange, but not hostile.
If anything… it felt unsettlingly familiar.
Ye Lanjue saw it.
His body moved instantly, stepping between them, blocking the Northern Prince's view. His expression darkened like a storm gathering over the sea.
This banquet was meant to choose a bride for the Northern Prince. If he took an interest in Tang Kexin, the consequences would be disastrous.
The Northern Prince blinked, momentarily taken aback.
The Third Prince of Great Yuan was known for his icy composure. Yet here he was, acting with unmistakable possessiveness.
Interesting.
And troublesome.
Before anyone could speak further, the Crown Prince—his drugged body overwhelmed—suddenly lurched to his feet.
He staggered toward Feng Qingyan.
And then, to the horror of everyone present, he seized her in a tight embrace.
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
Before Feng Qingyan could react, the Crown Prince's mouth crashed onto hers in a forceful, unrestrained kiss. One of his hands roamed wildly, tearing at her clothing.
Feng Qingyan froze—utterly stunned.
She was no Tang Kexin.
She had no strength, no training, no means to resist.
She could only endure as the Crown Prince—drugged, delirious, and utterly shameless—ravaged her dignity in front of the entire imperial court.
Her clothes tore.
Her skin was exposed.
Her reputation shattered in an instant.
And Tang Kexin watched, her expression serene.
The trap Feng Qingyan had set for another had finally snapped shut—on herself.
The Crown Prince's movements were so abrupt, so shockingly swift, that the entire assembly froze. No one—not even the guards standing mere steps away—had time to react before he seized Feng Qingyan and forced his lips upon hers.
For a heartbeat, the courtyard fell utterly silent.
Then—
"Save me! Save me!"
Feng Qingyan's shrill cry tore through the stillness as she finally regained her senses.
A guard lunged forward, but before he could reach her, a shadow flickered across the space. The movement was unhurried, almost casual—yet in the next instant, the Crown Prince collapsed bonelessly to the ground, felled by a single, precise strike.
Only then did the crowd register who had intervened.
The Third Prince.
A ripple of astonishment swept through the onlookers. Ye Lanjue, who had always been coldly indifferent to Feng Qingyan, had stepped in to save her? Had his aloofness merely been an act?
The Empress's gaze darkened.
What was the Third Prince playing at?
If he harboured feelings for Feng Qingyan, she would ensure Xin'er stayed far, far away from him.
The Northern Prince's eyes narrowed, a faint, inscrutable gleam flickering in their depths.
Tang Kexin, too, stared at Ye Lanjue—momentarily stunned.
He had saved Feng Qingyan.
Her mood soured at once.
But then she glanced at the Crown Prince, now sprawled on the ground like a discarded rag doll, and her lips twitched. Ye Lanjue's intervention had been nothing more than a convenient excuse. His true target had been the Crown Prince. That single palm strike would likely leave the man bedridden for months.
More ruthless than me, she thought dryly.
Feng Qingyan, meanwhile, was trembling with a mixture of shock and hope. Tears clung to her lashes as she lifted her gaze to Ye Lanjue, her expression pitifully fragile.
Her torn clothing exposed her shoulder—exactly as she had intended.
"Your Highness… thank you for saving me," she whispered, bowing slightly. As she moved, she tugged discreetly at her sleeve, ensuring the bite mark on her shoulder was fully revealed.
The mark—carefully treated with the man's medicine—now appeared aged, as though it had been inflicted more than a month ago.
Tang Kexin, standing beside Ye Lanjue, saw it clearly.
Her eyes narrowed.
A bite mark.
On Feng Qingyan's shoulder.
And Feng Qingyan was deliberately displaying it.
Tang Kexin's gaze slid toward Ye Lanjue, sharp with curiosity.
How would he react?
Whether the mark was real or fabricated, his response mattered.
Very much.